Veil's Horizon
by Nerumi H
Summary: Sailors tell tales of the creatures that haunt the capricious seas...sirens, harpies, and occasionally, the ghosts of those lost who have returned to fulfill their last dying wish. Oliver/Avanna. No, really.


.title.: **Veil's Horizon**

.summary.: **Sailors tell tales of the creatures that haunt the capricious seas...sirens, harpies, and occasionally, the ghosts of those lost who have returned to fulfill their last dying wish.**

.characters.: **Avanna/Oliver if you squint**

.warnings.: **Violence?**

.cover art by.: **ymkw (deviantart)**

.a/n.:** I REALLY LIKE AVANNA BUT WELL PEOPLE AREN'T GOOD AT USING ENGLISH VOCALOIDS. I THINK. I'M GOING TO BLAME PEOPLE AND NOT HER BECAUSE SHE'S ADORABLE.**

**Oliver cheers me up so here we go. Engloids everywhere! Tai is of course my baby, Taiwan Big Al.**

**Enjoy, and please review!**

**X**

The shipyard was merry and lively, all contours of it awakened so early in the morning with the bright voices of excited sailors, apprehensive wives and children, the shifts of cases and the unveiling of heavy sails getting prepped for the day's journey. The odor of pungent, characteristic wines, freshly broken bread, and salted cheeses wafted through the air to playfully tempt along Avanna's pallet. She smiled into the crisp air, violet-black hair stroking through the breeze, eyes slipping shut to fully engulf herself in the other strong senses that the pier evoked in her.

She rode with the rest of her team of sailors in the horizon of time that seemed so temptingly close. Today, after a return journey to the main kingdom, they were headed to one of the smaller islands off the distant coast, all in search for bountiful agriculture and lush wildlife. It was the exploration that made her so excited, not so much the discovery of new land for the king to plough through, but that was merely the job.

"Avanna! Stop that daydreaming and help me with this!"

She squinted open one eye to see who was yelling at her, and found Big Al lugging a heavy case of provisions from a stack of similar boxes. He was looking over his shoulder at her, a roll of his brown eyes paired with a smirk she didn't miss.

With a graceful leap she descended from the ship's edge, rushing along the pier to meet up with him. He surely didn't need help with the physical labour of such a task (there was a reason he had that nickname) but there were many things to carry back and forth between their bases. She grabbed one of the smaller boxes and hurried along to place it in the ship, where Big Al's brother Tai then carried the deliveries to the cabin underneath.

She was just returning from her first trip, shooting Al a grin on the way past where he lugged the enormous box on his broad shoulder, when she was caught off her normally stingy guard by a boy.

He was strolling in through the boxes, up the pier, unnoticed by any of the sailors that darted back and forth across it. A large blue eye stared at the hull of the boat—and eye the colour of the ocean in the brightest evenings of spring—blonde hair whisking frailly in the wind's gentle ruffling. He could only be thirteen at the most, with pale, full lips, a scrawny, short build, and a sloppy bandage wrapped across his left eye and head.

On his wiry form draped a captain's coat, spots of rust here and there upon the fabrics. His head held a sailor's hat, yet none of what he wore was the same as her crew's uniform, nor any crew she had ever seen. And upon that cap, Avanna was surprised to notice, a bright yellow canary added to the bustle of the pier with a short bought of song. She convinced herself that he was just another boy broken from his family to gaze upon the famous Celicia.

"Excuse me?" Avanna began, pacing towards the boy. He didn't look at her, continuing to gaze hollowly at the majestic beast of the ship. She noticed his feet were bare, one ankle tied with a scrappy bandage to conceal unknown wounds. He worried her. She leaned down, hands resting on her knees, so she could assure herself that he could hear her. "We're working here. You have to get off the pier. Please?"

He barely even blinked. The bird continued to chirp its song, one that sounded more and more haunting as she gazed at the boy. His mouth was slightly open and his breathing whistled the tiniest bit through his lips, glossy moisture gathering at the corners.

She reached out a hand, completing a gesture that tried to sweep the rest of the shipyard to his attention. He wasn't looking at her—that one blue eye was _hypnotized_ by the boat, and she could see the slightest movement of his iris as it glazed back and forth along the comely angles of the ship's skeleton. She felt an uninvited shiver coil down her spine just as footsteps arrived behind her.

"Hey, kid, you can't be here," Al's voice resonated from over Avanna's shoulder. The tiniest sigh of relief that Al could see him too took Avanna by surprise.

The boy finally blinked, achieving the severing of the tension he had unwillingly set upon the whole pier. Al's tall form was blocking his view of the boat and was pasting a dim shadow over him too.

"It's dangerous," Avanna gently clarified, but could feel the hesitation in her own voice.

"It's a pretty boat," the youth replied. His voice was clear and dreamy, boyish in its own fashion. The bird gave a tweet of exuberant agreement.

Al cleared his throat, obviously also confused. "Yeah, she is. Where's your ma?"

The boy asked, "What's her name, sir? The ship?"

Avanna wanted to stand back up—the tide-like depth, the deafness in his eyes was worrying her and in effect making her worry the knees of her pants until she thought she might rip the fabric. Instead she answered, "Celicia."

A few minute cracks in the boy's bottom lip opened up when a childish smile glimmered on his face. "Beautiful, that girl is."

Big Al then shook his head and released a sigh. He touched Avanna's shoulder, gaining her attention, and said, "I've got things to do. Get him back home, will you?"

"Yes, sir," was her automatic reply, but when Al turned away she felt a need for him to return to her side and confront this boy with her. He was making her far more wary than she was comfortable with. She asked, to relieve a little more tension and to also make it easier to find his guardian by asking around, she inquired, "What's your name?"

"Oliver," he answered merrily. He lifted a bandaged hand in a way as if it was weighed down with things he didn't mind to shake away. She offered him a wan smile and shook his delicate hand in hers.

"I'm Avanna. Where's your mother?"

The boy asked, "Are you gonna be sailing?"

She really did not like his avoiding of all important questions but she responded. "Yes, I am."

He appeared slightly puzzled. "But you're a _lady."_

She blinked. Those times had long passed and now any woman could do as she wished, although many chose to stay in the traditions of housekeeping and child-raising. Well, any woman could do as she wished, with quite a lot of perseverance. She was completely void of replies except for yet another, "Yes...?"

That seemed like a good enough answer. The boy gave her a repeat round of that cute, kind smile. "Be careful, ma'am. Your family'll miss you if you get lost at sea."

"Of course, thank you," Avanna warily answered. "Now, you should go ho—"

"Can I see her?"

"Hm?"

"Celicia. May I see her, ma'am?"

Avanna shook her head slowly. "We can't allow anyone on the ship."

But the boy wasn't going to take that as an answer. His expression spoke a million pleads and she feared he would break out in tears or something as atrocious, but thankfully he didn't—instead, less thankfully, he suddenly shattered his previous atmosphere of ghost-like tranquillity and raced down the pier. The white bandage on his foot was coming undone, flashing in the air like the wings of gulls, but it didn't stop him—nor did Avanna's frantic hollers.

She rushed the short distance after him, but the boy was alarmingly agile—it made no sense for his small child's legs to carry him so fast, but he seemed to cover much more distance than he was stepping, a grown man's pace to a youth's stumble. Oliver had jumped over the wall of the boat even though he was barely taller than it, in seconds.

Avanna cursed, yelling his name (and with great effort, not combining the two phrases) and leapt her way into the boat. He was only a dark blue blur among the strong mahogany colour of the ship's bindings. Oliver raced past Tai so fast that the man's glasses nearly flew off as his head whipped around to catch sight of him—Avanna tore past him next, making him loudly ask what in the world was going on, but Avanna was only worrying now about how her captain would react if she was caught with this tyrant out of her hands—

The boat suddenly heaved with an immense roll of a wave, knocking Avanna severely off balance in the surprise of it all, her back slamming into a mast with a crack. Her knees hit the deck and it was then that she realised that there were no waves. The water was as calm as a priest in this bright day. She struggled back onto her feet only to find the world continuing to rock hectically, the force of it all shooting straight to her uneasy stomach—a bubble of rumbling engulfed her ears as she teetered to the edge of the boat, sure she was about to heave and confused beyond reason—

The water below the boat was a blade's black, coal, frothing and crashing as if the whole sea was boiling.

A voice raised from the encompassing weave of thunder-shocks. It was not raining.

"Don't fear them, only their songs!"

Another, "A man's lost, a man's lost!"

"To the captain's quarters! _Now, you fools!"_

Avanna turned to see a modest crew of men stumbling across the slick deck, keeping themselves from panicking with pats on the back and hectic reassurances of that one mantra, "Only their songs, only their songs." What song? Whose? Avanna scrambled behind the last man, sure she was unseen in this obscure fantasy that she'd somehow tripped into. She didn't recognise any of her men, not Al, not Tai, Tonio, Bruno, none.

The cabin below the deck was dimly lit, hall candles thrown to the floor and snuffed out by the tremulous boat. A half dozen men took cover beneath the creaking wood of the ship, and one banged his fist impatiently on the oak-hewn door of the cabin.

"Captain! The sirens have surrounded us!"

No one answered for a long moment, and then amongst the shuffling of the wary men and the roar of waves, Avanna could hear a gruff voice come from the other side of the door.

"And what of my son?"

A long silence set deep in Avanna's bones. She was not part of this crew yet she still wanted to help them in their horror—but, she knew she could do nothing if no one could see her. Her head still spun with this unsolved puzzle, and the next words froze her breath deep inside her.

"He's... Oliver's..._taken,_ my captain."

A dry, frigid laugh crawled through the door. "Charmed by the sirens! A fate I knew to befall him and his foolishness! Drive us away, men. He cannot be saved."

Oliver? The blonde boy's sallow skin and youthful smile entered her mind, the bandages he was laced with. His endearing sailor's cap. She turned and stomped up the stairs, no one even glancing to see her.

None were left on deck save for the two unfortunate men left to handling the sails, their bodies being tossed by the unforgiving lash of wind and the ropes tearing from their grips. Their expressions were of sheer terror as they stared below them to the deck, not on her, but on a shadowed form struggling on the very edge of the boat. Her quickening feet took far too long to carry her there, yet when she reached the side of the writhing creature, she wished she hadn't used such haste.

A dank-smelling, scaled thing was squirming and screeching in the black water. It thrashed what looked like a long shark's tail, sewn crudely into its vaguely human torso, arms snagged around the body of a young man who battled to get away.

Avanna could see his blonde hair in the dim light and gasped. He was bloodied and soaked, grappling onto the edge of the boat with all his might, and would heave his body halfway onto the deck only to have the maniacal creature drag him back in. The erratic rolling and rock of the boat did no wonders to his case, only resulting in his head cracking against the wood and the creature emitting a triumphant cackle and shriek.

Avanna's balance was severely damaged from the horrid tipping of the boat, but she felt entitled to this, her role as a crewmate and as a human urging her forwards to the thrashing pair and risking a kick to the siren.

She was relieved to hear her foot connect with its head, the way it snapped back in shock. Its claws sunk deeper into Oliver's chest, springing blooms of red through his soaked white shirt, and to Avanna it turned a malign snarl, bared fangs coated in oily saliva and grime.

She knew she couldn't fight it off with only her slight body, and she was running out of time before Oliver would lose his strength and the siren would drag her prey under for once and for all. She hastily looked around the boat, tangled black hair falling into her face—and she realised the weight of her cap upon her head, the one from the world—galaxy?—of minutes ago where she had met this man in his body of a child. She was still wearing her uniform.

She hastily drew her short blade—only a dagger, her one method of security that Al would allow her—and the silver sharpness took in the remaining moonlight of the ship. The siren saw it and, suddenly alert, gave an especially insistent tear on Oliver's form.

He slipped, his body vanishing for a moment and panic bursting inside her before she noticed pale fingers clinging to the wood. She snatched his wrist in her free hand, pulling with all her might.

A clawed paw tore her arm in vengeance. She did not jolt back, gritting her teeth against the pain and still pulling on the increasingly slack grip of Oliver. The ship stymied her efforts, throwing her forwards in senseless rhythms, but on one particularly violent tip to the opposite side, she yanked hard on Oliver's wrist and gravity threw them both onto the deck in a hard splash.

The siren came with him, claws knotted in his navy coat; Avanna struggled to her feet and, with no calculating or even a proper glance, threw down her blade to the creature. She missed, only gashing its scaled arm, but she gave it another try—this time its shoulder took the attack, blade angled in towards the neck and buried all the way to the hilt. It gave a strangled, mirthful yell, writhing the way a snake does when poisoned, whipping its dangerously heavy tail this way and that until the boat rocked with a loud creak and the slippery flesh of it forced it down back into the water.

A long moment past, then the screaming, blurred under the water, stopped, and the waves immediately ceased.

Avanna, breathing painful and hard, scrambled across the deck to the man—he was coughing, water spewing salty and thick from his lips. Blood dribbled from various deep gashes, gouges, onto the deck, spreading wide and swift in the wetness of his clothing and skin.

She carefully turned him to his side so he wouldn't choke. She was certain that this was the boy she'd only just met—his lips as pale and cracked, jaw round and with a small doll's chin, his eye concealed with a tightly-wound eye-patch. His shoulders shook with his coughing until he collapsed again; Avanna pulled herself close to him, staring and heartbeat pounding so loud it was a wonder the whole crew didn't hear it.

She then realised, would he be able to see her? The idea almost frightened her, yet somehow the thought of him not living scared her more. She remembered the bright, innocent boy of the pier, his charming smile and wonder with the ships. Could this be his death? But how was such a thing...—?

His eyes relaxed only slightly, tendrils of blood pealing over the lids and down to his mouth. She wiped them away gently with her sleeve then asked, "Oliver?"

His mouth moved slightly, a silent gasp for air that was not as desperate as she wished it would be. His shivering of coughs had ceased; now it was silence that frightened her.

But then he spoke. It was hollow as she had remembered it. "F...Father?"

"I—no..." She was unsure how to answer. "Avanna. Avanna, do you know who I am?" _Like I know you?_

"...Oh." A soft smile tugged at one side of his mouth. "That's...too bad."

"Do you have words for him?" she asked breathlessly. She recalled the spiteful words of the captain, as water and blood leaked profusely onto her hands and arms, the blood sticking insistently. "I can tell him. Oliver?"

"Words...? I have..._sonnets,_" he stammered dryly. Through the wheeze of water and the tenseness of pain, she could hear how such a voice had developed from that boy. She wondered if the bird had ever taught him to sing, "for my dear father."

She wanted to run and get him but didn't feel right about leaving him, as if she was to lose him forever if she let him out of her sight. The unsteady, careless breathing told her time was not exactly on her side.

He continued to speak, though, filling the atmosphere of calming waves with the gentle swaying of his voice. "I would like him to hear th...these apologies...for not havin' th'honor he wished for me as a child. 've brought this ship t'her...death, haven't I?"

"No, Oliver, it's all right now—the sirens are gone—"

He wasn't listening, eyes slipping closed. "Loved this ship, he did...like a poor man loves th'idea of riches." His voice took on the dreamy quality, a smile lifting his mouth further. "S'gone, isn't it..."

"Oliver..."

"I'll find his soul a ship; I'd've liked to...find my father a boat he'd love. That'll make him r...remember me."

His breathing ceased like the swaying of masts as the ship pulls to a silent pause.

Avanna wasn't sure what to do, her words all stolen away in the winds, but it was a shouting that woke her from the depths of Oliver's soul that she had been staring into. Shouting, stifling, furious hollering, the solid coldness of wood under her back, a hand yanking at her shirt.

Eyes focusing, she found herself under the early morning sunlight of the shipyard. Big Al was at her side, bringing her to her feet, Tai on the other, gaping like a fish.

Their boat was pulling away from the pier, the song of a canary drifting joyously from the wheel.


End file.
